


unhinged

by whereshiphappens (xiiis16)



Series: pre fixed [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M, Mentioned Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Panic Attacks, ok listen its dark ok theres no nice things here im sorry, the Chimera Pack is a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiiis16/pseuds/whereshiphappens
Summary: Theo knows exactly what this is about. He has probably been counting on it the second he came for Malia, and Stiles’ teeth grit because he knows that, but couldn’t help himself.“You think you can just come for mygirlfriendand nothing would happen?” The smile that spreads across Theo’s mouth is just bloody enough to make it vicious, and Stiles’ hand moves before he notices to wrap around Theo’s neck. “I’m not Scott,” Stiles threatens, the anger finally making the control on his voice get away from him and shake, his fingers squeezing, his eyes fixing on the way Theo’s mouth hangs open with a gasp but his smile doesn’t fade. Theo’s eyes flash yellow at his words.“Hurt her again, and I’ll fuckingskinyou, I swear-”“You should hit me again,” Theo interrupts, licks his lips and looks at Stiles with hooded eyes, and a wildness to him as he pushes a little against the hand Stiles has on his neck; not to get away, but to cut the air a little further. “I shot her twice,” Theo whispers.





	unhinged

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!
> 
> ok, did everyone read the tags??? did everyone notice the NON-CON thing???? did you??? cause like.... it's a thing that happens here ok, dont go reading if that ain't your cup of tea ok sweethearts, take care of yourselves.
> 
> that being said, this is a sequel (another one, i know!!! who the fuck am i??) to _unworthy_. i dont really know why i had this idea, i was listening to Three Days Grace - I Hate Everything About You and all angsty dark songs of my early teenage years and here we are i guess.
> 
> I apologise for mistakes. I'm not entirely sure how i feel about this one, but. yeah.
> 
> i hope you enjoy in any way. love you.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s hard to describe the feeling in his gut. It keeps twisting his insides, keeps eating at Stiles and spiking the fire ascending to his chest - his anger is gasoline. His breathing is short, tense, worked up and only gets worse with every stomp of his feet as he crosses the hallways of the school, turning heads and ignoring them all.

Lydia is speaking at his side, rushed quiet words and a hand grasping at Stiles’ arm that he pays no attention to; he knows what she’s saying as she struggles to keep up with him, ever the voice of reason. _“Stiles, please don’t- it’s not worth getting in trouble for, please.”_

Stiles isn’t listening. There’s only white noise filling his ears and all he sees is red.

He slows down only when he finds Tracy and Hayden by the door to the courtyard and while Hayden has the grace to tense as she spots Stiles approaching, Tracy’s lips stretch in an amused little smirk that stays on for just a second. It’s enough to piss Stiles further - she knows what this is about, and she’s apparently _amused_ by it. Lydia pulls sharply at Stiles’ elbow, as his hand curls into a fist, and they stop.

“ _Stiles_ ,” is all Lydia says, pointedly, through clenched teeth, just a hint of aggressiveness in her voice. Stiles isn’t listening. He takes half a step towards Tracy even though Lydia’s hand keeps pulling him back by the elbow.

He opens his mouth, takes a breath, his tongue hits against his bottom lip as he tries to control the blind rage making it impossible for him to stay still. As collected as he can, Stiles speaks. “ _Where_ is he?”

Hayden refuses to meet Stiles’ eyes, glancing at Lydia instead, unsure, but Tracy holds his gaze. She’s leaning casually against the lockers and raises his chin, smiling knowingly at Stiles and _fuck_ , he could just about tear her lips and that smile out of her face with his bare nails. It’s a testament to the intensity of the fire burning in his gut that he pushes his nails into his palm to stop himself.

Maybe she senses it; either way Tracy nods her head to the side, indicating the door and the courtyard.

Lydia is still holding his elbow, but it does nothing to stop him from storming outside; Stiles has the fleeting thought that a creature with super strength wouldn’t be able to stop him at this point. He isn’t even aware of the motion of his legs, of the direction of his steps, he’s guided by a raging adrenaline that doesn’t let him think twice about what he’s going to do. All he sees, is Theo’s face in red and his blood runs wilder under his skin.

And then he sees him. By one of the picnic tables, Theo has his arms crossed on his chest and is looking down at a sitting Josh, listening to him talk. Briefly, he notices Lydia isn’t following him anymore, and he knows that must mean she went to get someone who can actually stop him, should things escalate - it should frighten him that his first thought is to make it quick, before they come.

Josh is the first one that sees him, tenses just like Hayden did and glances up, frowning, at Theo.

The second it takes Theo to notice Stiles is all he needs to still catch him off guard - those ice cold eyes meet the fire in Stiles’ and he feels it like thunder roaring in his chest, escaping up his throat in a growl; he lays a hand on Theo’s hoodie, fists the fabric of it to turn him around. With adrenaline electrifying his veins, he brings his fist back and punches Theo in the jaw, a sickening sound of bone cracking filling his ears.

If it was his hand, Stiles doesn’t notice, can’t register anything except the anger boiling inside. Faintly, he hears people gasping around, turning to see, notices out of the corner of his eye Josh standing up. Stiles doesn’t give Theo the time to recover, grabs at his hoodie again and pushes him up against the nearby concrete pillar, gets all up on his face and the split lip and little droplets of blood on Theo’s chin bring a sadistic little satisfaction that soothes the turmoil in Stiles’ chest just a little. He barely notices the hand Theo has up, stopping Josh in his tracks.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, you piece of shit, I’ll give you that,” Stiles says, his voice disturbingly low and calm, even to his own ears. Theo’s hand comes up to wipe at his lips as his eyes look all over Stiles’ face - there’s not a hint of confusion in his expression; Theo knows exactly what this is about. He has probably been counting on it the second he came for Malia, and Stiles’ teeth grit because he knows that, but couldn’t help himself.

“You think you can just come for my _girlfriend_ and nothing would happen?” The smile that spreads across Theo’s mouth is just bloody enough to make it vicious, and Stiles’ hand moves before he notices to wrap around Theo’s neck. “I’m not Scott,” Stiles threatens, the anger finally making the control on his voice get away from him and shake, his fingers squeezing, his eyes fixing on the way Theo’s mouth hangs open with a gasp but his smile doesn’t fade. Theo’s eyes flash yellow at his words.

“Hurt her again, and I’ll fucking _skin_ you, I swear- _”_

“You should hit me again,” Theo interrupts, licks his lips and looks at Stiles with hooded eyes, and a wildness to him as he pushes a little against the hand Stiles has on his neck; not to get away, but to cut the air a little further. “I shot her twice,” Theo whispers.

The provokation does it. The mocking air as he speaks, like all this is a fucking joke, gets to Stiles in a way very few things do and he’s growling, taking half a step back to swing at Theo again; gets him in his jaw and Theo lets out a moan that breaks in his voice halfway through into a chuckle.

The image of Malia curled on Scott’s sofa just earlier that morning bleeds into Stiles’ mind through all the fury and makes his blood boil further. Her groans as the lead was removed from her whole torso and her feverish state as her body struggled to heal around foreign objects. And the guilt that Stiles felt for being the reason this happened to her.

Before he can hit Theo again, he feels himself being pulled off with arms around his chest. He yells out, frustrated, as he hears Scott’s voice close to his ear calling his name as he’s dragged back. Stiles doesn’t take his eyes off Theo, the scowl on his face turning almost disgusted as he’s forced away, Lydia right on their heels. “Hey man, not here, okay? Not here, he’s not worth it, _”_ Scott says, as he lets go of Stiles, once he’s sure Stiles won’t try to hit Theo again. Instead he pulls at Stiles’ arms to get him moving away before anyone shows up and Stiles gets in trouble.

So Stiles goes, frustrated, still glancing over his shoulder at a smirking Theo - detention isn’t part of his plans anyway.

 

 

 

It’s already dark when Stiles gets home. After hearing Lydia going through her list of reasons why what Stiles did at school was really dumb, and after being made to promise - by Scott - that he wouldn’t go off to do reckless shit again, he finally left the McCall house, wore down by the guilt every time he looked Malia’s way. Malia, who was still sleeping on the sofa, better than in the morning, but still recovering at Melissa’s care.

Theo is a fucking sociopath, and a lunatic, and Stiles wants to hit himself for underestimating just how far he’ll go to get what he wants, _once again._ He has the wild look on Theo’s eyes engraved in his mind from the night he came clean about his intentions - when Stiles punched him for the first time, knowing his suspicions were right all along. The smug expression on his face stepping over mountain ache at Stiles’ place.

Having the audacity to show up at the hospital after being partly responsible for what happened to his dad... the way he pushed him against an elevator wall and buried his nose on Stiles’ neck like a fucking animal. The desperate wild want in his eyes. The feel of his lips.

In a fit of anger, Stiles punches the wheel of his jeep repeatedly with his palm, hits the rearview mirror to face it away from himself and stays there with his head in his hands for a moment. His fucking fist _hurts_ terribly - he can still move his fingers fine, so nothing’s broken, it just hurts like a bitch.

Theo found a way to fuck with Stiles - different than the way he fucks with everyone else, but still with the same objective: throw him off his game, manipulate him, get what he wants. Got Stiles punching supernatural creatures like his own bones would heal in minutes like theirs do.

He went after Malia this morning with that same purpose - use it against Stiles, provoke him, get him to react to Theo when nothing else would work; and Stiles feels guilty. Both for dragging Malia into this when things were just about to be half alright again (just like with all his friends), and for, in the end, reacting exactly like Theo wanted him to. He got under Stiles’ skin.

Stiles takes a look up at the house. He knows he’s much later than usual, and it shows in the way the lights are out on the inside - his dad must already be sleeping. He’s getting better slowly - it’s been a few weeks since the whole ordeal with the poisoned spikes, he’s almost well enough to go back to work. With a heavy exhale, Stiles grabs his backpack from the passenger seat and opens the door of the jeep, to get out.

They still have to properly talk to Malia, understand what happened. It’s not like she was supposed to be where she was this morning either, but that’s a whole other can of worms - it was something about her mother. Stiles sighs, walking up to his front door, reaching for his keys - a shadow moves, catches Stiles’ eye and he feels his heart jump painfully in his chest as his hand curls into a fist around the keys and comes up, instinctively.

His heart drops, and the whole thing actually _hurts_ his chest. “That little thing at school today? That was fun,” Theo is standing with his arms crossed, steps out of the darkness of his porch with a smirk on his face and a glint in his eyes, “We should do that more.”

For a few seconds, Stiles is frozen in place, heart beating wildly in his chest and a new coat of hot anger crawling up his veins. Theo hears it, of course he does, and he stares right at Stiles’ chest, biting off a smile like he can see through his skin, he just hums appreciatively. It takes a lot for Stiles to keep in mind his bruised knuckles, that he will only hurt himself if he tries to hit Theo again, and walk right into Theo’s traps. He needs to calm down.

“Fuck off,” Stiles says instead, starts walking again towards his front door, subsequently in Theo’s direction. He straightens his back and squints at Stiles like he’s examining him and a little smile breaks through.

“Come on,” he says in a smooth, quiet voice, as soon as Stiles is sticking his keys on the lock, and reaches for Stiles’ arm and it’s too fucking much. Stiles jerks back like he’s been burned, the gesture, the tone of voice invoking a kind of intimacy that jots his mind back to the feel of Theo’s hair beneath his fingers and Theo’s ragged breathing on Stiles’ abdomen as he pressed his face against his stomach. It’s too much.

“Stop,” Stiles says, and he’s proud of the way his voice doesn’t waver. Theo frowns at him, trying to read him and reminds Stiles of an animal once more, with the way his head turns. “You think you’re so fucking smart, you think you found this clever way to mess with me. I know what you’re doing,” Stiles takes a step closer to him. “Stop. And leave Malia alone.”

At the mention of Malia’s name, Theo looks away, his frown breaks into an eye-roll. He exhales and his face lowers as he fixes his eyes to Stiles’ again - just a hint of impatience in it.

“‘Leave Malia alone’, that’s cute” Theo jeers, a mean smirk on his face, “you almost sound like you care about her.” There’s an exaggerated fake pout on Theo’s face, and along with his words, it rubs Stiles the complete wrong way, and he steps to the side, gets right up to Theo’s face.

“Do you have a death wish, Raeken?” his voice is calm and low, unlike the boiling anger running through his veins, and Theo’s smile widens. “You _know_ what I’m capable of, don’t you? You, of all people, know that my threats aren’t empty, don’t you?” Stiles’ mouth is running and none of it is being filtered, he knows, and normally he would care - with Theo, he really doesn’t.

“Yeah,” Theo breathes out, his tongue touching his teeth and that smile not wavering on his face. It’s fucking infuriating. Stiles’ facial expression morphs into a scowl.

The air is charged with tension, even as they stare each other down in silence for a moment, barely two feet between them. Then, Theo breaks the silence, with a whisper. “ _Join my pack.”_

With a grunt, Stiles is set back in motion by it, turns back from Theo to the door. “Stiles.” Is all Theo says, louder this time, serious and it sets Stiles’ off again. Everything about Theo fucking Raeken sets Stiles off and he hates this fucking conversation, hates the goddamn tension, hates that Theo felt confident enough to walk up to him and _ask,_ hates that there’s a fraction of his mind that wonders how much more effective things would be around here if Theo’s pack was in charge instead.

“I don’t want anything to do with you or your fucking pack, I don’t know what the fuck gave you the impression that you can even walk up and fucking _ask me_ that, but you are deadly mistaken, you hear me? Whatever the hell is in your brain, forget it, forget me,” Stiles’ mind is running in circles around what happened in the elevator and he knows Theo is thinking about it too, knows that Theo is smart enough to get every and any meaning of his words. They stare at each other and Stiles notices the tense line that is Theo’s lips.

“I’m done with this,” Stiles finally says, tone deflated, ready to open the door and get home. He feels spread too thin with a bunch of feelings inside of him that threaten to rip him apart at the seams.

He’s sort of already expecting Theo’s outburst - it comes in the way of a push that knocks the air out of Stiles’ lungs as he hits the wall next to his door; there’s a hand on his jaw and Theo’s right up in his face, angry scowl in place.

“You’re a fucking _liar_ , Stiles,” Theo tells him, “you think I don’t know- you think I don’t _see_ how you’re lying to me?” he looks wild, out of control, and there’s a genuine worry that overcomes Stiles for a second. Theo’s hand drops to Stiles’ neck instead, keeping him in place. Instinctively, Stiles’ own hands come up on top of Theo’s. “I saw you in that elevator, I _know_ what you want, no matter how much you deny it to still look good in the eyes of your little righteous friends.” Theo steps closer, pins Stiles’ body with his own, his lips right next to Stiles’ ear as he speaks.

“Get _off_ of me,” Stiles groans, trying in vain to push Theo away. He feels his heart leap helplessly with rising panic in his chest. He can’t move Theo even an inch and his breathing gets worked up - he realises his position just then, pinned under an angry, weirdly obsessed and _unhinged_ supernatural creature.

“You can’t lie to me, baby,” Theo mumbles, slowly, oddly off. Stiles feels his breath hitting his ear and flinches, his shoulder coming up reflexively. It’s too much, too real, too close, too out of Stiles’ control and he feels himself starting to freak out. “Let me go,” Stiles spits again, the feeling of his chest constricting getting worse, like his lungs won’t inflate anymore and he can’t _fucking_ breathe.

Theo’s leg pushes in the middle of Stiles’ and he freezes; it’s only a second as Stiles realises what Theo is doing, his whole body goes cold and then, instinctively, he trashes in Theo’s hold, voice raising in panic as he tells him to “stop! Theo, stop it!” voice trembling. Theo’s other hand comes down to cup Stiles’ crotch through the fabric of his jeans and Stiles tries to kick him with a whole new fear taking over him. He doesn’t want this. He _doesn’t_ fucking want this.

“I know what you want,” Theo is telling him, ignoring Stiles completely, and he moves to instead kiss his mouth, hand back to holding his jaw, leaving Stiles no choice, no room to move. He tries to fight it - the panic rising, surpassing whatever fucked up attraction he feels towards Theo, surpassing all rational thought that isn’t his instinct to fight to get out of his hold. But it’s useless - it’s fucking useless, he can’t get out and he can’t breathe and his vision starts getting blurry with tears.

There’s a voice in his head screaming at Stiles that this is his fault - for letting his guard down, for letting what happened in the elevator happen in the first place. This is Stiles’ fault for being so _fucked up_ in the first place and maybe he had it coming.

When Theo backs down from the attempted kiss, a sob escapes Stiles’ lips without his permission and he feels some sort of last remaining self control that insisted in telling him to calm down finally break inside of himself. All he feels is panic. There’s tears welling up in his eyes and threatening to spill and the terror breaking his voice doesn’t keep him from raising his voice at Theo, “Let me fucking go, I swear I’ll scream,” and that’s when his fear infected mind realises that _screaming for help_ is an option.

Theo frowns as he sees Stiles’ tears, “Stiles,” he whispers, with something akin to confusion in his face and Stiles opens his mouth in a shout, eyes closing as he gives it his all before, inevitably, Theo’s hand falls over his mouth and silences him, Stiles’ hands clawing ineffectively at it.

He opens his eyes, doesn’t know what he’s expecting to see, but it isn’t the confused frown on Theo’s face, the _indignant_ look, like he can’t quite believe Stiles would do that - and then he steps back, gives Stiles room, but keeps his hand over his mouth. There’s silence between them that gets broken only when Theo finally takes his hand off of Stiles’ mouth and Stiles is allowed to regain his breath in long inhales and helpless sobs.  

Stiles doubles over for a dizzying moment, lets his back slide down the wall to sit on the cold floor, and his eyes are closed as he brings his arms close to his body. Through the blurriness of the tears, he sees Theo stepping off his porch, slowly, walking backwards like he’s in a daze himself. The look on his face tells Stiles that Theo only just realised that he was hurting Stiles. A short trace of anger almost flares up in Stiles’ chest again, but he feels too overwhelmed by every single one of his senses to chase it. How could he not see what he was doing?

Theo disappears between one blink and the other.

Bringing a hand to wipe his eyes, Stiles then presses it to his forehead and he can’t stop the crying.

It’s the helplessness that this world he lives in, with supernatural fucking creatures makes him feel. It’s the constant threats, the life and death problems around every corner. It’s the weight in his chest, the restless in his bones, the anxiety. It’s the broken relationships and his poisoned beyond repair soul. It’s his own uselessness at trying to prevent everything from going to shit.

It’s all crashing down into him at once and he feels small, useless, broken, powerless. He longs for a time when it wasn’t that way - and then his conscience grips his heart tight, painfully as he remembers Allison.

He continues to wipe the tears coming down his face, but he can’t find it in himself to move just yet, although everything in him screams to get inside, lock the doors.

Stiles finds himself thinking about what would happen if he asked to be bitten. Having the power to match all the evil he’s surrounded by sounds great. Or, he thinks, as his crying subsides, maybe his body wouldn’t even be able to take it. There’s a weird peaceful, _empty_ feeling taking over his chest as he comes to the conclusion that this alternative sounds just as good to him.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [ find me on tumblr, here :) ](https://whereshiphappens.tumblr.com)


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